Being a homeless, cruddy human who lives on the streets and flirts with street vendors to feed your appetite. Relying on substances to foreshadow this miserable lifestyle. Life was really hard. You applied to job applications and tried to live in abandoned and broken down shelters. How much depressing could this be?

It's cold.. The snow fell as it touched your bare skin gently. You sat on the street while drinking your bottled beer. You wanted to freeze to death. It didn't take long for the snow to fall harder and breeze tougher. Eventually, you found yourself unconscious while gripping on the bottle.

"Thank you."

A deep, soothing voice echoed through your head. You then felt a wet, gentle touch against your forehead, a wet towel perhaps. You opened your eyes and were met by a gaze of a... privileged man as how you would explain. A maid walked out of the luxurious, warm room. She had a bowl on her hands that explains why the sudden gratitude.

You immediately put your guard on as you sat up and pulled off the towel.

"I wouldn't take that off."

The man crossed his arms.

"Do not fret. Just think of me as a friend who helped your drunk ass."

He said

"Xayden, by the way, and I saved you. Call me Xay, den, or whatever."